


Scribbles

by silberbunt



Category: No Fandom, Original Work
Genre: Autumn, Colors, F/F, Gen, Loneliness, Lost and Found, M/M, Metaphors, Other, POV First Person, POV Third Person, Scribble, Writing Exercise, a lot of studies, bc autumn is mentioned unhealthily often, but that is not often lol, i honestly don't know what to tag, there's a lot of myself in those scribbles, these are literally just some scribbles when i get inspiration hits, update every once in a blue moon, writing prompts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-06
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-12 11:23:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 3,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29883837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silberbunt/pseuds/silberbunt
Summary: “we’re all drowning.”“but we’re drowning in such a beautiful way.”“because we can still see the sky from the bottom.”some short texts or writing prompts from sudden inspiration hits.
Relationships: Original Character(s)/Original Character(s)
Kudos: 1





	1. a ghost of a touch.

**Author's Note:**

> welcome welcome, i'm glad you found this chaos that calls itself my thoughts!  
> those short scribbles are basically just short mini texts that suddenly popped up in my head, but i hope you'll enjoy them~  
> (a quick heads-up: i talk in a lot of metaphors, feel free to interpret it however you wish)
> 
> also never be too shy to lmk if you liked what you read, i'm always happy when someone shares their thoughts with me!! this is a safe space, so please don't hold back~ (/ω＼*)
> 
> CAUTION: some of these stories may be triggering for some because i often write about depression, just hidden in metaphors whatsoever; so please only read when you're comfortable with it!

As the first snow of the year fell, I stood on the edge of my rooftop, the tips of my worn shoes dangling over the edge while a cold breeze swept through my hair, tousling it in such a lively way that my chest ached.

It was a snowflake landing on the tip of my freezing nose that made me raise my gaze from the beautifully cared for flower garden waiting at the bottom of it all.

I didn't expect snow this early in the year, as it was still shy of a few days until the beginning of winter would smile around the corner. But the shuddering cold of the night air embracing me reassured me that the snow melting on my rose red cheeks wasn't just a dream.

A sigh escaped my lips, the warm breath condensating in the air and reminding me of how much of a constant I still was. It wasn't a pretty sight, but I followed the fog as it rose towards the sky nonetheless, until it wasn't much of a constant anymore at all.

I didn't expect snow this early in the year and it made me close my eyes, not letting the annoyance swimming in them being seen by anyone - although it was an empty worry, for I was the only one occupying this rooftop in the middle of the night; for nobody would be this loony to stand on a rooftop in the middle of the night, when the first snow of this season was falling so calmly.

As my eyes opened themselves again on their own, they met a shimmering light in the distance which seemed to creep past the lonely house in the mountains on which a lonely figure was standing on the edge of the rooftop. It was a threatening sight, a reminder of how I shouldn't be here, of how I would have to pay the price for my careless actions.

My arm reached towards the shimmering light, though I knew I could never reach it, no matter how much I wished for. So instead of the light grazing my fingertips, a snowflake lay itself down on the rose red skin of my beat-up fingers, refusing to melt like all its siblings prefered to do.

It felt like the ghost of a touch I never received, somehow so full of warmth and chill at the same time, the aching of my chest increased. Slowly, gingerly, I retracted my hand in a way that allowed the snowflake to keep its place, raising my hand so it came to a halt at eye level.

The snowflake had something of a fragility that made me wonder how it survived the hard fall from a better place.

It reminded me of myself, I realised, as I stepped away from the edge until the tips of my worn shoes hit a safe distance from the threatening place that would've undoubtedly resulted in a drop not too unpleasant for my aching chest.

But it wasn't the time for it now, I realised, as I sat down on the safe space, the snowflake still sitting on my freezing hand like a ghost of a touch I never received.

It wasn't time for it now, I sighed, the warm breath escaping my chapped lips forming into a constant that rose towards the sky. And I followed its way until it disappeared, somewhere on its way turning into nothing comparable to a constant anymore at all.


	2. in autumn i fall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there's a lot of metaphors in here, share with me if you found them!!✨

I like to think of myself as a leaf.

Being born on the 22nd of march, my grandparents always talked about me as their spring-bringer, bringing life and beauty as the flowers started blossoming and the trees brought back their green treasures, light breezes wafting through the new born leaves. I think they painted a picture of me that just doesn't fit with myself, them seeing me as a colorful flower who brings smiles on people's faces and a glimmer into their eyes. I always was their everything, with my mother dying at my birth I was the only thing alive she has left behind. So they held me close, painted colors on every inch of my body just to hold the facade they built around me up and alive. But I was never the flower they oh so keenly tried to bring up from that lonely little child with a smile so sad, remnants from the cold winter days during my mothers childbearing.

The spring usually is my peak of the year, for three months being just slightly lighter than the rest of the seasons. Just as expected - it's the time of my birth, after all. But as the months flow by, time being just a myth in the old and worn out books in the library of my grandparents, my body and mind get weaker, my spring colors littered on my body turning duller and more brown with each step I take into the future.

The heat in summer draining the little bit of energy circulating through the shell that claims to be my body, I hate summer. Usually spending the time in the huge library of my castle, I don't acknowledge it much, though the heat billowing through the old walls reminding me of the dry and dead times. I'm a master at ignoring, so the dead bodys of dried out humans and animals never reached my eyes. but my mind suffers. So colors on my cheeks never were a common thing in summer.

And when the sun tames its power down, autumn arrives. Wouldn't my grandparents have spent so much time on coloring me like the beautiful flowers, autumn actually would be my favourite season. I adore the reds and yellows and browns covering the earth. With an atmosphere reminding me of sorrow and despair, the air's flimmering with lost souls. But it's also the time of my fall. Like the leaves on the old trees, my roots leave me all to myself in autumn. Not catching me when being thrown to the ground, my colors turn to dead brown, skipping the beautiful yellow and red. When the leaves die, I die with them.

I never lived to see how the world is covered in a calm and soothing white blanket called snow.


	3. crying clouds.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the person that can tell me from which song this got inspired gets a cookie  
> also, funfact: i wrote this instead of paying attention in class

I thought I saw you out there crying. The blue on your cheeks shimmering, reminding me of the times you danced out there in the rain, a tired smile present on your soft features, though you never told me if the glistening water running down your ashen face were all the more ashen teardrops or just blue rain, tears from the sad clouds above our hanging heads.

Fingers dancing over my limbs and happy kisses placed on my forehead, I never questioned the sincerity of your actions. But through shy glances around the old and broken corners of our humble little hut, I saw you out there crying. Your eyes mimicking what they watched when you danced in the rain on hopeless nights, your fingers helplessly on your sides, not knowing what to do to hide the blue and salty waterworks dripping from your chin.

Shining brown eyes with galaxies hidden in them gazing at me with so much love and warmth, I never doubted the sincerity of your expression. But lonely nights in my cold bed and sobs wafting through the thin walls of our little castle in the magic woods, I heard you out there crying. Your cries filling the emptiness residing between us, a void which couldn't be broken with these touches full of warmth and affection.

And I wanted to reach out and paint so much green and yellow and purple on your broken skin, just to make the oh so sad blue disappear, just to give you back the shimmer in your lost eyes.

But my paint brushes were desiccated and my paint containers empty since years ago, when I gave up on painting the world in a happier shade. because the rain washed my colors away and the humans stepped on the remnants, so my fingers gave up on picking up my loved pencils.

And not knowing if my embrace is enough, I tiptoed around the old and broken corners, entering the jury-rigged kitchen and watching the teardrops from a safe distance.

I think my delicate love was never enough for you to plaster and fix the cracks and holes littered where you can and can't see them. but still, I tried. my weak arms finding their way around shoulders, feeling every inch of your dry skin, my bony fingers tingling with every inch you accepted of me. And your forehead leaning on my chest, it was never different. Because my fingers always found a home in your hair and my skin was so accustomed to yours.

And, still, it made no difference, you laying in my arms, because my love was never enough for you to plaster and fix the cracks and holes, but it was so alluring to savor your so peculiar taste with my lips. And I found peace in the way you accepted the irrecoverably lost side of me, this girl you found in the magic woods on an especially rainy night, hopelessly alone and mistaking tears with rain.

And I knew I was being selfish.


	4. becoming the wind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay so i tried something new with this one, i hope it's still understandable;;

And sometimes, when the boy listened in pitch black, carefully, with soft breathes of his own, he heard the cry coming from deep in the resting old forest, holding feelings he deep down as well desired to utter, for he wanted to lift off of his sore chest where air is just a myth.

And every time he listened, his craving for salvation became bigger and more present as time goes by even darker, but still too weak to make one step after another, for his feet to lead him into the resting forest in front of his semiderelicted home, in this inviting hollowness dripping with sorrow of all the lost souls who followed the cry of desperateness.

And sometimes there's a raven sitting on a lonely tree on the outskirts of the woods, his shimmering feathers mirroring the own dry hair of the all the more lost boy wandering around broken stone and wood, all scattered to the four winds, laying on the arid grass which hasn't seen the so wanted water drops falling from the crying ashen clouds hanging over their heads for so long now. And searching for the lost was never a purpose the raven asked for, but his hands becoming flat-lustrous black wings and his mouth a beautiful dull orange beak, he wasn't left with just the ounce of choice and willpower; from claiming to be lost to floating over the hanging heads of who really are.

So the raven watches with ears you can listen into the past and eyes you can look into the future, because the now is just for pretending to be and not to be.

And he watches when the lonely boy crumbles day by day, oh so wishing to help him finding back to civilization, not letting him be hanged on the trees by cracking voices of his past and broken dreams of his future. but his fingers becoming feathers, all he can touch is the cold heart of the cry deep in the resting old forest, although burning his tips on the freezing hole whenever he tries. Tries to change what he's been watching for years and years on end, the old and same mantram always replaying in front of his helpless eyes.

Although not believing in being able to help this time, again and again, he dodged crossing paths with the lost boy, hoping to not taint him. Still, he knows not to set his hopes up too high, remembering all the times he lost against the cry. Remembering it's useless to fight against the black loneliness, absorbing all the lost souls out there, strolling through as abandoned places as their lonely hearts, one day turning to the cry themselves.


	5. be my dream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> funfact: i wrote this to cope when i fell in love for the first time

I think it changed as the rain was falling so steadily outside of my window.

I lived in a town where rain wasn't something you'd call rare, rather a companion that has been on your side since the day you were born. It brought silence with it, such a calming beautiful blue falling from the crying clouds above us. It reminded me of you.

Yeah, I think it slowly changed throughout the days where rain was steadily falling and flowing away on the dirty roads, disappearing through the manhole on the end of every neighbourhood. I watched it as it flew from the scaring daylight, afraid of confronting the world in the vulnerable state it was. Oh it reminded me so much of you, it hurt.

I craved your touch every time you weren't next to me, holding me so tightly, as if you were scared I'd disappear. I craved to hold your hands in mine, closing the gap between us, relishing in your proximity.

Yeah, I think the feeling changed the longer the rain was falling, oh so steadily outside my small home.

I used to be alone throughout my years of childhood, because my mother left me and my father died, I never had someone who'd cradle me in their arms when my tears were falling like the rain in my town. I never knew what it meant to love someone with all I had, so I was scared of the tight feeling in my heart whenever you wouldn't sit next to me. Oh I was so scared as everything changed the more the cold stones outside would be covered in the blue rain, the more the people normally dancing in the streets went quiet, the more the chatter died down. Maybe because only then my loneliness hit me like a trainwreck, making me face my sad life with such a force. But maybe it also was because the rain remembered me so much of you.

I can't remember how it all began, I only remember looking in your eyes as you took my hands and danced with me till the sun was rising again, waking up the sleeping people and warning those who were still awake. I only remember laying in your arms and forgetting how it felt like to be all alone while my emotions overcame me. You made me feel so loved, so _wanted_ , I refused to let go of your hand anymore.

As I looked outside the window again, I noticed the rain slowly coming to a halt, letting the world bloom up again. I took a deep breath as I pulled myself together, slipping down from my windowsill and starting to pack the things I needed for till the earth was covered in water again.

Whenever the rain stopped, it was time for me to let out all the feelings that changed while the blue drops were falling.

Whenever the rain stopped, it was time to make my way to meet you again.


	6. nobody wishing for nothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay so this was a birthday present for my aunt who's only wish was... Nothing  
> (and i also used this as a practice for dialogue, because i was never fond of that)

On a rainy summer day, _Nobody_ was walking on the pavement through a city so quiet, the rain putting everyone to sleep who normally ran through the streets and making everyone mumble who normally shouted till the stars could hear them. _Nobody_ loved especially those rainy summer days, because it brought breaks to their busy schedule.

You may know _Nobody_ , may they be probably one of the most known... _Somethings_ in this world, though never seeming to reach this certain popularity status like _Love_ , _Tears_ or _Thing_ did, but they were content with whatever they had. You may know _Nobody_ , as they have more than one name known to them, like _Nothing_ or _Nowhere_ , but their favourite nickname was and will ever be _I don't know_ . why, you may ask yourself? I asked _Nobody_ myself, because it wouldn't make no sense for me as well, but they just answered "Because it gives people a chance" with one of the biggest smiles I've ever seen. (The heavy clouds on the sky seemed to weaken just a tad at that.)

 _Nobody_ loved those rainy summer days, walking down the street with a happy skip to their step, whistling a tune under their breath. They reached their favourite café, today a little bit more empty and lonely than it normally uses to be. With a frown, they were greeted from _Worry_ , half an eye on the new customer and half an eye on the heavy rain outside the window. _Worry_ never understood how _Nobody_ could love those kinds of days, as it only brought dark thoughts to their mind. Nevertheless, they greeted _Nobody_ with a wave of their hand, a faint smile replacing the frown.

"I will never understand how you can walk so carelessly through the rain", they finally voiced, already being occupied with preparing _Nobody's_ usual order. _Nobody_ just laughed, raising their arm. "You see, I'm not really here nor there, making me a ghost to wherever I decide to go, so rain can't do me anything", they announced, demonstrating the just said with a _Woosh!_ of their hand through their raised arm, going through effortlessly as if it would through air. _Worry_ shuddered, feeling like they're never going to get used to this as they placed the coffee on the counter.

"How can you still be so happy, being somewhere in nowhere, only half existing and half not, but still being so wanted as if you'd be as essential as _Nutrition_ or _Nature_ ? How can you be so happy with yourself running around on busy days, trying to fulfill everyone's needs without ever getting recognition as _Something_ ; with just giving but never receiving?" _Worry_ bit down on their lip, playing with their fingers to distract themselves from their own mind. (It was hard, having worry as your life essence.)

 _Nobody_ hummed in understanding, grabbing their coffee while thinking over _Worry's_ words. But, in the end, the only thing that came to their mind was the thought that kept them going since the beginning.

"It just feels so good to be needed, you know? It makes me happy to see others being happy because of my doing. All this is enough for me, even when the only thing people have in mind when mentioning me is... nothing at all."


	7. blue is a sad color.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm honestly not really happy with how this turned out tbh  
> also, i wrote this during the time i started my color study for my other story ["give me a little bit of your sunshine, darling"](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17241575/chapters/40545686) (yeah, that's a shameless self-promo)

_ Blue was the only color they ever saw. _

"No! Look at me! You hear me? Raise your head, straighten your gaze, look at me!"

And oh so bitter honey dripped from her lips as the words full of gloom and despair left her chapped lips, leaving a bitter taste in her mouth. It felt like the umpteenth time she took this plea, this threnody, between her crooked teeth, letting a lifeless grey accompany the oh so bitter honey, soiling her hands with an ugly potpourri of pale gold and even paler grey while they tried wiping her oh so blue teardrops off her gashed face.

And her last words left were tainted with this crestfallen hue, her last plea ordained for the only girl she ever loved, filled with "Please, don't give up on yourself"s.

But everything she got in return was a sweet-and-sour laugh, so hoarse and dripping with resignation. and with a cold tremor the girl watches as the last light vanishes from the deep blue eyes, only leaving behind an endless seeming ocean oozing with loneliness.

And as the beautiful girl opens her mouth for the first time in days, her as equally but still all the more chapped lips flow over with the last colors residing in this empty shell. And the doleful colors cover the floor, floating around their naked feet. There's so much red and green, so much violet and orange, but most of all there's blue, so so sad blue, letting the girl feel dizzy.

"I already gave up on myself so many years ago."

And as desperately as the other girl tries to detect just the little bit of color and warmth in those words, it was nearly as hopeless as the attempt to catch the light seeping out of the deep oceans she calls the eyes of her beloved one.

And all she can do is watch as the liveliness of the other girl escapes her alert fingers, mixing with the fading colors on the floor.

And all she can do is aiming her gaze heavenwards, closing her eyes and welcoming the cold rain that pours down on them since hours ago.

_ Oh, there was so much blue. _


	8. burning wings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i honestly don't know what this is?? just enjoy it, ig??

Last year he drowned.

Torrential waves crashing down on him, dragging the lost one down down down; his burning wings just a burden to him, licking flames being fed instead of killed by the cold water like petroleum.

And oh so sad blue surrounded the boy, blue was everything he saw. It fogged his mind; his eyes closed as on reflex, a sad attempt to lock the dripping sorrow out of the angel’s sight, out of the angel’s mind.

And dead silence made him wish for death, still orange flames heated the pitch black around him, saving the boy instead of letting him go.

But all he wished for was death, as his hopes came crashing down and his ears became deaf, for cries of the upside down intensifying by each feather dying.

And down down down his burning wings dragged him, till the blue turned to black and everything the lost one saw were single lights in the loneliness, reminding him of the night sky he held so dear in his heart, for his other half being forgotten by each centimetre of plume being destroyed.

And the famous butterflies filled him up, his stomach crowded with these beautiful creatures, yet butterflies were never anything he admired, for they were always there in the boy's faded days he’d rather forget.

So he just wanted to get them out, but the only way he went was down down down, till the black turned to red, yet the piercing orange from his burning wings stood out from the red red red, surrounding him like his end.

His end as a fallen angel.

**Author's Note:**

> [twitter](https://twitter.com/DieAvocadoTwins)   
>  [curiouscat](https://curiouscat.me/silberbunt)


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